


I'll Wait Up For You, Dear

by blackorchids



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathtubs, Bubble Bath, Dildos, F/M, Future Fic, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Multiple Orgasms, POV Female Character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prompt Fill, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackorchids/pseuds/blackorchids
Summary: Harry being away for work doesn't mean Ginny's losing out on orgasms.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	I'll Wait Up For You, Dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FangQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangQueen/gifts).



> written for Kinky Kristmas over on Daily Deviant's Dreamwidth acc!!
> 
> [](https://daily-deviant.dreamwidth.org/10156.html)   
>  art by 
> 
> **Click the banner to visit[](https://daily-deviant.dreamwidth.org/)[ **daily_deviant**](https://daily-deviant.dreamwidth.org/) and read more details!**
> 
> Title from the song _Santa Baby_ because it's Christmas, even though I'm p sure this fic is taking place in the summer lmao 

She might desperately miss Harry when he’s gone long weeks in a row for work, but it doesn’t keep Ginny from living her best life. She sees movies with Hermione and goes to clubs with Pansy and works in her garden with Luna and plays all together too much Quidditch with her brothers, the slack of off-season tiring out her muscles faster than she’s used to, her pulse racing with the adrenaline that comes from sheer, enchanting love of her sport.

After one such day, full to the brim with an early-morning off-season practice, three hours under the hot sun pruning and weeding, a dip in the creek behind the Burrow, and several rounds of three-on-three Quidditch with Percy officiating, Ginny returns home full of her mum’s food and a little sleepy from the sun, her muscles sore from a really good workout.

The house is empty and quiet, but a flick of her wand has the lamps turning on and casting the rooms in soft yellow lighting as she shuffles her way over to the kitchen to root around in the fridge for that half-full bottle of pinot grigio. She pours herself a glass of it, bracing her forearms on the counter and staring out the window a little mindlessly as she sips from it for a moment, just breathing.

When she’s finished with her first glass, she straightens up to go change and realises just how achey she is and decides to trade in her regular nightly shower for a long soak in the rescued iron claw-footed tub.

Her wand makes getting everything sorted a thousand times easier, swishing it to light the half-melted candles nestled around the loo, circling it until the water in the tub is steaming, tapping it along each bottle of fragrant, shimmery soap until the bath is towering with iridescent, fluffy bubbles.

It’s quick work to step out of her shorts and twist out of her cut-off t-shirt, and she admires the lines of her tan and her resurgence of freckles as she plaits her hair, twisting the thick rope of it up into a knot at the crown of her head.

Ginny sits at the edge of the tub, sipping from her newly-full glass and testing the temperature of the water with her fingers for a few seconds before stretching until her spine pops and stepping into the water and folding herself down until she’s lounging in the oversized bath.

She can feel the tension in her muscles bleeding away and her eyelids flutter for a while, hazily drifting in and out of a light doze, still sipping from her glass every so often, feeling a pleasant muzziness cloud over the edge of her thoughts from the alcohol and the heat. Thanks to magic, the water stays hot enough that she’s pink wherever it’s touching, though the bubbles are from muggle soaps and they slowly start to disperse, leaving her exposed shoulders and chest feeling a little sticky.

Ginny abandons the once-again empty glass to rest on the toilet cover to cup water in her hands and gently splash it on her skin, washing away the soapy residue, pressing the pads of her fingers into her shoulders a little absently and thinking about scheduling a massage in the next few days.

One such pass of water has her smoothing her hands across her chest, and she idly moves them a little lower, dumping little handfuls of water over her breasts a couple times, taking her time more and more until she’s cuping the slight heft of one in a hand, long fingers circling around her nipple almost lazily.

Ginny leans back against the edge of the tub and, with her free hand, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trails it down the column of her neck, and then cups her other breast, letting out a big, steadying breath and playing with her nipples with no real intent for several long minutes until they’re peaked and sensitive and sending pleasant little jolts down her body.

Almost accidentally, she pinches at one too hard, and there’s a swooping low in her stomach and her unhurried movements are suddenly intent.

Ginny shifts a little in the tub so her legs are spread a little wider, abandons her left breast to smooth her hand down her stomach, and scrapes her blunt nails on the sensitive skin of her thighs for just a second, her breath hitching. Finally, finally, she gets her fingers on her clit, already throbbing a little from the wait.

She circles it several times, twists a little to get her hand further down so she can plunge two fingers inside as best she can, the stretch always delicious. Every pinch to the nipple still getting attention sends another little shock down her spine, and her breath quickens, and she goes at her clit with more vigor, quick, sure strokes until she arches her back a little, rutting against her own hand as she crests over her first little orgasm, tingling from it behind her ears and at her nipples and down her spine.

Energy restored and a growing determination to keep going, Ginny sits up enough that she can reach her wand on the toilet next to her empty glass, wet fingers leaving little drips along the floor, and she swish-and-loops it, mumbling an _accio_ that has her favorite toy hurtling out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, her Quidditch reflexes making catching it a breeze.

It takes her a few minutes to get comfortable again, and her two slender fingers hadn’t really opened her up enough to accomodate the bulbous head of the pink dildo, so she turns on the vibration, fiddling with the two buttons until the setting is how she likes, and plunges it into the water to drag it up and down her cunt, the water quaking a little with the repeated movement.

Ginny leans her head back again, the air cool at her sweaty temples and the damp arch of her neck, and runs the vibrator back and forth, circling her clit and wiggling between her labia and occasionally pressing it against her entrance, testing the stretch, until she finally gets it in, feeling the stretch of it at the base of her spine and dancing across her collar bones.

She fucks herself with it for long minutes, her spare hand playing a little inexpertly at her clit, the slide of the vibrator making her cunt clench and spasm around the shaft as she pulls it nearly-fully out and plunges it back in deep, water sloshing up her chest, a little tantalizing against the sensitive peaks of her breasts.

Throwing one leg over the edge of the tub, heedless of the water dripping onto the rug, she ruts up into the toy, trying to manage the sweet spot of scraping the head of the dildo against her g-spot on it’s way, and the new angle just barely manages it, has her thigh muscles trembling with the effort, but she chases the feeling, the pull from low in her belly and deep inside of her.

Her clit pulses with her heartbeat and it’s almost too sensitive to touch dead-on, so she keeps her fingers circling it as she drives the dildo back and forth in as steady a pace as she can manage until finally her breath catches in her throat as the tightening finally snaps, her second orgasm washing over her in waves of pleasure, electricity dancing across her hairline, down her neck, pooling in her belly and making her toes clench with the force of it.

Ginny tries to keep working the dildo through it, but her pace is sloppy and her hands are trembling a little with the effort, but just having it inside of her draws it out a little, and she comes to after a few long minutes that weren’t long enough, blinking a little and panting a little more.

Somehow, though, it’s still not enough, and she loves these few days of hers where she’s just _insatiable_ , loves spending long hours in bed with Harry until they’re both sweaty and trembling and too tired to go on, but Harry isn’t home, which means Ginny’s on her own to keep going.

She leaves the tub still stoppered up, too eager to keep chasing the high of multiples, steps out of the tub and wraps a towel around herself only to keep the chill of the air-con away from her skin as she makes the quick journey from the loo to the bedroom.

In there, she throws herself atop the bed, wand in one hand and dildo in the other, duvet sticking to her back a little because she’s still too damp.

It’s nothing to shift her hips and spread her knees so she can get the dildo back inside her desperate cunt, but laying flat on the bed doesn’t give her a good enough angle to keep going and it’s only a few minutes before she gives that up, turning over until her arse is high in the air, her face pressed to the mattress and one hand fisting the sheets as she reaches with her other arm beneath her to grapple at the buttons on the end of the dildo until it’s vibrating again.

The new angle is better, and the position has her mind racing with half-cocked fantasies, and she keeps the vibrating dildo held tight inside of her as she circles and dances her fingers over her clit, feeling full and exposed and a little naughty with the implications of fucking herself like this, desperate and needy.

Ginny’s panting now, the back of her neck hot and little breathy noises coming from deep within her chest with every jolt of pleasure her clit sends shooting up her spine. She spends a while like that, edging herself closer and pulling back, enjoying the fantasy of it a little too much, until she gets too desperate to keep it up and she pushes herself up on her knees, stretching her arm across the bed to find her wand, abandoned amongst the bedding.

It takes a second until she manages to get quite what she wants, but soon she’s got the dildo fixed upright, held there with a few modified charms, the low hum of the vibration loud in a room where the only other sound is her unsteady breathing.

After bracing herself, Ginny scoots over to straddle the area where the dildo is and, raising back up onto her knees, one hand at the base for good measure, sinks fully down onto it, tossing her head back and a stuttery groan escaping from between her teeth.

She stays like that for just a second, feels how tight her nipples are like there’s an invisible thread between them. Her thighs twitch slightly, and then she rises up a little, pulling until she’s almost all the way empty before dropping down again.

The rhythm is easier to keep this way, lots of practice riding Harry coming handy, and it’s not like the dildo ever needs a break to keep composure. She keeps her free hand away from her clit, works her breast with it instead, knows it’ll take longer for her to come that way but also that it’ll be that much better from the wait.

Ginny rides the dildo until her freshly relaxed muscles are aching from the strain again, until she can feel sweat pooling at the small of her back, until she feels half-crazed with the build-up, her heart pounding. Her fingers barely touch her clit and she’s finally, finally, coming again, the whole world whiting out with the force of it, and it feels like it lasts forever.

It’s all she can do to pull off, slumping into the huge pile of pillows at the head of the bed and panting a little, feeling like she just ran ten kilometres through molasses. She thinks about going back to the bath to re-soak her muscles again, but when she tries to move, her thighs protest a little and she decides to wait and just rest a few minutes, bathing in the afterglow.

**Author's Note:**

> come talk to me on [tumblr](http://www.rosalinesbenvolio.tumblr.com/)!


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